


Artistic License

by Settiai



Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Fix-It, Gen, One Shot, Tumblr Prompt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-06
Updated: 2016-11-06
Packaged: 2018-08-29 11:46:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,504
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8488114
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Settiai/pseuds/Settiai
Summary: "Lied" is such a harsh word. Varric much prefers "used creative license." (Besides, it was Hawke's idea.)





	

**Author's Note:**

> Months and months ago, [this post](http://settiai.tumblr.com/post/138961527094) crossed my dash over on Tumblr. Then this fic happened. Except I apparently forgot to actually post it anywhere. Oops?

Cullen's first thought was that he was hallucinating.

It wasn't a completely unexpected side effect of lyrium withdrawal, after all, and he'd already experienced some hints of it during those first few weeks after ceasing his regular draughts. Still, he hadn't noticed anything else that would make him think he was on the way to a major withdrawal episode. That was the only thing that made him even a little skeptical.

Frowning, Cullen leaned a little farther over the edge of the wall, his gaze focused on the slim figure below that had caught his attention. No other signs or not, it had to be his eyes playing tricks on him. Anything else was utterly impossible.

Then again, a lot of things he would have said were impossible had happened recently. It was almost becoming a day-to-day occurrence.

"Commander?"

Cullen glanced behind him and gestured for the confused-looking runner standing there to step forward. "Do you see the elf standing down there in the courtyard?" he asked. "The mage, with the greying hair?"

The runner followed his gaze, clearly still puzzled but well-trained enough not to comment on it. "Yes sir," she said slowly, a hint of inflection at the end that made it sound almost like a question. "Do you need someone to bring him to you?"

Cullen brought his hand up to rub the bridge of his nose. He didn't have a headache yet, but he knew there would be by the end of the day. It would have made things easier if it had been a hallucination.

"Maker's breath," he muttered under his breath.

There was a long pause before the runner cleared her throat. "Sir?"

"No, it's fine," Cullen said with a tired sigh, letting his hand drop. "Thank you."

The runner shot him a skeptical look, but she didn't say anything as she nodded at him and hurried off. Not that he didn't expect that she wasn't going to run straight to Leliana to tell her about the entire conversation.

The Inquisition's troops were well-trained, after all. In many ways.

Cullen let his gaze drift back down to the courtyard.

The mage was still standing there, with a handful of others that were milling about. They were clearly new arrivals to Skyhold, still waiting about for Fiona to greet them and provide them with rooming assignments. Even from a distance, he could see that their clothes were dirty and much too thin for the cool mountain area, and several of them had what looked like dried blood stains on their clothing. They had clearly had a difficult trip.

For what might have been the first time, Cullen felt sorry for Cassandra. He suddenly understood why she wanted to strangle Varric with her bare hands so often, and he very much sympathized.

"Damn," he muttered, his hands clenching into fists almost unconsciously. Then, without saying another word, he turned and started toward the main hall.

He had a dwarf to find.

*

Cullen crossed his arms in front of his chest as he came to a stop just in front of Varric. "Varric, we need to talk."

Varric glanced up and raised an eyebrow, his mouth twisting into a smirk. "That's quite a glare you have there, Curly," he said, sounding more amused than anything else. "What can I do for you?"

"I have a question for you," Cullen said, trying to keep his tone even. Judging by the way Varric's eyes narrowed ever so slightly, he suspected that he didn't quite succeed. "About what happened in the Gallows, there at the end."

The smirk on Varric's face dropped like a stone. It would have been almost amusing under different circumstances.

"The last time I checked, you were there too," Varric said cautiously.

Cullen took a deep breath, reluctantly uncrossing his arms and letting them drop to his sides. "I'm not talking about Meredith," he said. "I want to know about what happened with the First Enchanter."

Varric blinked. "Andraste's tits," he said. "He used blood magic and turned into a monster. What else is there to say?"

"The truth would be nice," Cullen said dryly.

Cullen wasn't a good judge by any means, but even he couldn't miss the uncomfortable expression that flashed across Varric's face. It was only there for a moment, but it was still enough for him to notice.

Varric shot him a wary look. "I'm not sure I like the way this conversation is going."

"That makes two of us," Cullen said sharply. Then he grimaced, bringing a hand up to rub across his face.

There was a long pause before Varric cleared his throat. "Is there a reason you're wanting to dig up the past here, Cullen?"

The fact that Varric had used his actual name rather than that ridiculous nickname didn't go unnoticed.

Cullen sighed. "Follow me for a moment, Varric."

Varric stared at him for moment, as if he was trying to decide whether to humor him or make a run for it. Then he nodded and put down the quill that Cullen hadn't even noticed he was holding, resting it on top of the pile of papers that he'd been working on. "Where are we going?" he asked, standing up from his chair.

"Just to the courtyard," Cullen said. "It shouldn't take long."

Cullen started for the doors, not even glancing back to make certain that Varric was following him.

He knew that he was. Varric never liked mysteries unless he was the one writing them.

*

"Shit," Varric said rather vehemently, his gaze focused on the group of mages that were still milling about in the yard.

Or, more specifically, on the same mage that had caught Cullen's attention in the first place.

Cullen glanced at him. "I'm not going insane then?" he asked, trying to keep his voice mild. "Because I'll admit that the thought crossed my mind."

Varric grimaced. "I can explain," he said a bit desperately.

Cullen just raised his eyebrows.

"It seemed like a good idea at the time?" Varric said. "Also, it was Hawke's idea." He paused. "Well, it was partly Hawke's idea."

Eyebrows still raised, Cullen crossed his arms in front of his chest. "I'm listening."

Varric sighed. "I think this is something that's best told over a drink."

Without changing his posture, Cullen cleared his throat. Pointedly.

At that, Varric rolled his eyes. "Or I could tell you now and get a drink afterwards?" he said, the mild exasperation in his voice undermined somewhat by the obvious tension in his frame.

Cullen glanced around, making certain that no nobles were wandering by within earshot to hear something that they shouldn't hear. Then he grimaced. "Varric," he said, "will you please tell me why First Enchanter Orsino is standing here in Skyhold when, the last I heard, he's been dead for almost four years?"

There was a long pause.

"Artistic license?" Varric suggested lightly.

The look that Cullen shot Varric was not one of amusement.

"Look," Varric said, the humor fading from his face, "you of all people know how bad it was that day. Hawke thought it would be better for everyone if the templars and the Chantry thought the mages holed up in there were all killed, and the rest of us agreed."

Cullen closed his eyes. "So you lied."

"Lied is such a strong word," Varric protested. "I prefer exaggerated."

"I'm sure that you do," Cullen said, still not opening his eyes. He wanted to say more, but he forced himself to hold his tongue. It was neither the time nor the place, and he knew it. "That explains the implausibility of what you described, at least."

Varric snorted. "Implausible?" he repeated. "I'll have you know that I stole that story straight from Blondie. He swears that the Hero of Fereldan fought something that looked just like what I put in my book."

Cullen let out a sigh. From what he remembered of Surana, it was entirely possible that Varric was telling the truth. Almost as possible as it was that Varric was lying through his teeth.

"We didn't find any survivors in the Gallows after I let Hawke and the rest of you leave," Cullen said, reluctantly opening his eyes again.

Varric shifted. "Did I forget to mention the smuggler tunnels that led in and out of the Gallows?"

Cullen opened his mouth. Then he closed it. "Cassandra is going to find out eventually," he said. "I'd suggest that you start spinning an excuse now."

"Good idea," Varric agreed with a grimace. "Can I go get that drink now?"

*

It took Cullen longer than it should have to work up the nerve to actually step down into the courtyard. If it wasn't for the fact that he knew that he needed to get back up to his office, he might have stood there just watching for even longer. As it was, he watched as Fiona finally make her way down to greet the Inquisition's newest free mages, a flicker of surprised recognition flashing across her face when she greeted Orsino. Not to mention a hint of worry.

Then, with a deep breath that didn't actually help all that much, he finally made his way down the stairs and started toward the mages.

Fiona nodded at him as he passed her, a hint of understanding on her face that he tried not to think too hard about. Cullen kept walking, though, his attention focused on the familiar figure still standing with his back to him.

For just a moment, it was as if he was back in Kirkwall again, standing to the side and feeling the blood on his hands growing thicker and thicker with every day that passed without him standing up for what he knew was right. Cullen was under no illusion that he was blameless in what had happened at the Gallows. There were deaths on his conscience that nothing could ever make right, and a clear sign of it was standing just in front of him.

Cullen expected that his nightmares would be particularly bad when and if he made it to bed that night. Part of him thought that it was only fair.

"First Enchanter Orsino."

A few feet in front of him Orsino froze, his back stiffening. Then, almost hesitantly, he turned around to face Cullen, his eyes widening in recognition as their gazes met.

It was startling how different he looked from what Cullen remembered back in Kirkwall. The First Enchanter had always worn a defeated air about him, even when he was going toe-to-toe with Meredith, as if he knew that he was fighting a losing battle. There was a light in his eyes now that Cullen had never seen back in the Gallows, and despite the exhaustion that was clearly etched into every line on his face he looked much better than Cullen ever remembered seeing him.

He looked like a man who had discovered what it was like to be free.

"Knight Captain," Orsino said after only a moment's hesitation. There was a nervous look on his face that Cullen hadn't expected to see there, but he supposed that he couldn't blame the man considering what had happened the last time they had been face-to-face. "I must say that I did not expect to find you here."

"I can truthfully say that makes two of us," Cullen said dryly. "Especially since I believed you long dead until a little less than an hour ago."

Orsino grimaced. "Ah yes," he said, not quite shifting but looking as if he was resisting the urge. "I expect that I owe you an explanation."

Cullen shook his head. "No explanation is needed," he said. "Varric was quite informative once he realized that you were here."

"Serrah Tethras is here?" Orsino asked, sounding pleasantly surprised. The corners of his mouth twitched slightly, as if he was trying not to smile. 

Cullen nodded. "Yes, he is," he said. "And the Champion is expected back within the week, if you would like to see him as well."

Orsino stopped even attempting to hold back his smile, his lips turning upward. It made him look years younger.

In all the years he'd known the man back in Kirkwall, Cullen wasn't certain he'd ever seen him smile. Not even once. A pang of guilt rushed through him, one more thing to add to his list of regrets.

All things considered, Cullen couldn't help but smile back. He tried to ignore the startled expression that flickered across Orsino's face when he did so.

"Thank you for letting me know, Knight Captain," Orsino said with a nod. "I owe both of them my life. It would be good to see them again."

Cullen nodded. "I expected as much," he said. Then he paused. "It's just Commander, actually." He reached up and rubbed the back of his neck. "I've left the Order."

Orsino's eyes narrowed, and Cullen had the feeling that the man had heard much more in his statement than he had intended. He didn't say anything, though, merely nodded again.

There were a thousand and one things that Cullen wanted to say to him, questions he wanted to ask and apologies he wanted to give. It was neither the time nor the place, though, that much he knew.

Nor did he have any right to begin that conversation, not after everything he had done. Or not done, as the case might be.

"There are only a handful of templars in Skyhold who might recognize you from Kirkwall," Cullen said. "I will speak with them and make certain you have no issues."

Orsino hesitated a moment. Then he inclined his head in Cullen's direction. "Many thanks, Kni—" There was a somewhat uncomfortable pause as he cleared his throat. "That is, Commander."

Cullen gave him an awkward nod in return. "I have taken enough of your time," he said. "Knowing Varric, I expect he can be found in the tavern. If you wish to speak with him, that would be the first place to look."

Without saying another word, Cullen turned and started back in the direction he had come.

"Commander?"

Cullen hesitated a moment before stopping and turning back in Orsino's direction. The mage was standing there watching him, an unreadable expression on his face.

"If I wished to speak more with you in the future," Orsino asked carefully, "where would you be found?" The corners of his mouth turned upward. It wasn't quite a smile, but his amusement was clear. "Not the tavern, I assume."

Cullen snorted despite himself. Then he pointedly met Orsino's gaze. "When and if you wish to speak, most members of the Inquisition would be able to point you toward my office," he said. Then he gestured up at the tower that he had claimed as his own. "That said, it's that one."

"Thank you, Commander," Orsino said politely, his face still inscrutable to Cullen.

"Of course," Cullen said with one more nod.

Then he turned and walked away.

**Author's Note:**

> Find me over on Tumblr. (http://settiai.tumblr.com/)


End file.
